no escape, and then a sudden thunderstorm sends the temperature down to
something that reminds one of chill October among English moorlands. The
sun hides its face abashed behind a misty veil, but the flies remain.
Drizzling rain, with white mists in the valleys, and heavy clouds
dragging their torn skirts about the mountains, also put a stop to the
bombardment until an hour past noon next day.

Probably these conditions were less favourable to us than to the enemy,
whose movements were completely masked, and when the clouds cleared some
of his batteries on new positions were ready to join the diabolical
concert that went on at intervals until dark. The concert, however, was
mere sound and firing signifying nothing--except in its effect on nerves
already unstrung--as we had no serious casualties that day. And the next
brought peace, for the Boers do not willingly fight on Sunday, and we
have no reasons at present for provoking them to a breach of the
tacitly-recognised ordination that gives us one day's rest in seven with
welcome immunity from shells. Their observance of the Sabbath, however,
does not run to a total cessation of labour on the seventh day, and if
they do not want to fight then they have no scruples about turning it
to account in preparations for a fight next morning. On this particular
Sunday, while we were getting all the rest that a shell-worried garrison
can reasonably expect, some of our enemies were labouring hard to mount
a big gun on Surprise Hill, which rises from a series of stone-roughened
kopjes where the Harrismith Railway winds nearly due west of Rietfontein
or Pepworth's Hill, and about 4000 yards north of King's Post--one of
our most important defensive works. In anticipation of this we had
shifted one heavy naval gun to Cove Redoubt, which is well within that
weapon's range of Surprise Hill, but can hardly be said to command it,
as the latter has an advantage in point of height. We had also, however,
lighter artillery bearing on Surprise Hill, and in some measure